What A Fanbase We Have
by igirisexual
Summary: America invites England over to show him a little something he's stumbled upon. Something that he found in the deep dark recesses of the Internet. It's called 'USUK'. England is hardly impressed. USUK, oneshot, it was like really early in the morning. And I'm sorry.


**my excuse is that it was late at night and i just had a mighty need to write this ok**

* * *

"Alright, so why did you insist that I visit you today?" England was blunt, ever goading as he stood at America's hotel room door. "More importantly, why are you staying in London?"

"Not even a 'hello'? No 'Hi, it's great to see you again'?" America stepped back to let the other nation inside, and smiled a little. "Oh, gee," he scoffed, sky-blue eyes ever vibrant. "I just _love_ the dreary, rainy, and moody weather."

"Good to see you've learned sarcasm," England muttered, taking off his coat.

"I learn from the best, dude."

"You didn't answer my first question, idiot." England puffed, placing his coat down and turning to face America with one hand on his hip.

"Well, I've come to find some stuff that I thought you would deem amusing." He mused, closing the door and then wandering about to locate his laptop.

"Why do I worry when you say something's 'amusing'?" The Briton sighed. "And I know you're only here because it's freezing at your house right now. You could've visited Japan, you know."

"Yeah, but," America whined, shaking his head. "Anyway, anyway,"

He walked over to the couch, opening his laptop – a new model that he had adorned with cute stickers – and patting the spot beside him for England to sit down in.

"It's polite to offer refreshment when you have a guest." The elder of the two scolded.

"Sure is," America laughed, shrugging.

"Still a twat, I see," England grunted.

The computer was turned on, and America quickly flicked through his internet bookmarks. Ah, there was the golden link. Well, golden as a metaphor. In actuality, it was a kind of dark blue.

"That's spelt wrong," England muttered, pointing to the site's logo.

"It's spelled just fine, stop being a stuffy old man." America protested, going to the URL bar and adding '/tagged/usuk'. At least the internet reception in this part of London was relatively fast. The page loaded in just a few seconds, much to the American's amusement.

"Oh my god," murmured England, thick brow furrowing. "Is that supposed to be you? You look like a little girl," he laughed.

"You clearly haven't seen enough anime, old codger," America rolled his eyes, and began to scroll. As the images passed, some of the two kissing, hugging, and being general sweethearts, England became more and more incredulous.

"What the bloody hell-.. How do you _find_ these things?.. More importantly, why the hell would people make artwork like that?.." He grunted, shaking his head in disapproval. "Can I ask why the hearts at the bottom of the white boxes are all red?.." Something caught his eye as Alfred scrolled, and he hit the other nation's hand to stop him from continuing.

He moved one finger to the mouse pad and scrolled back up, only to recoil in horror.

"This is bollocks," he wheezed, watching Alfred's cheeks go red the more the screen stayed the same. Well, that was a little.. how shall we put it, inappropriate? Wait, perhaps intimate is a more suiting word. Perhaps both. "America, I swear to god," England puffed, biting his lip. He would never do that kind of stuff with America. Ever. The thought horrified him.

"Well, I've seen some shit," America stated blankly, dipping into his list of bookmarks again.

"Oh god, what now?.. If it's something like what I just saw, I'm leaving this hotel right now." England muttered beneath his breath.

The dark blue of Tumblr changed to a lighter web page, one that was white with dashes of dark blue and light grey. America was quick to click various buttons, starting with 'anime', and then '_Hetalia: Axis Powers_'. England just watched and waited. The younger of the two was even quicker to sort through the filters, and make the search so that it only showed writings including he, America, and 'England/Britain'. England wondered if this website was something America used often, considering how used to it he seemed to be.

"Why are you putting in my name as well-.." England muttered, staring at the collection of stories that showed up. "Wait, how many pages are there of this?!.. And what's a lemon?.. Yaoi?.. Sounds like something a cowboy would say. Damnit, how do these damned people know my actual name?.. Or yours, for that matter.." England grumbled, although he was mostly rambling quietly and America couldn't understand a word.

"You have so much to learn, old man," He mused, scrolling for a bit before picking out a story, and handing over the laptop so that England could read. "Or should I be calling you Arthur?"

"You don't have the privilege right now, because I'm frustrated with you." England puffed, but the other nation quietened down and allowed him some quiet to read. This story started alright.. Ah, they even managed to capture just how boring some world conferences could be. It was still kind of creepy how absolute strangers could write detailed fiction about he and his various fellow nations, but he let that slide for now. He'd have to talk to Japan about that.

Oh, but now the England in the story was thinking about how much he just _adored_ America. The real England could hardly believe any of this. No, he didn't think that America's eyes were _that_ beautiful. Not to the point where he'd trip and accidentally lock himself in a storage closet because he was swooning too much. He would admit that America had grown into quite the attractive man, but he would never breathe anything about a 'crush', like this tale's England thought about every second.

"You at the good part yet?" asked America, glancing over to look at the screen. "I come in, and therefore make it awesome."

"Shut it, you twit," England cursed, turning a bit more so that the screen was out of America's view. "I'm trying to read."

Oh, now fiction England was thinking about America. While locked in the storage closet.

"Is your middle name really _Foster_?" England mused, looking up with curious eyes. "I've known you for all these years, and I had no idea."

"A secret's a secret, so shh!" America puffed, giving the nation a friendly shove. "Keep reading." The Briton rolled his eyes and went back to the story.

Ah, there was the part America had mentioned. A fiction America had bounded back into the meeting room, claiming to have forgotten something. Then he heard a noise from the closet. There was then something about opening it with his super muscles, and then rescuing the story's England, because he was the hero.

"This is painfully dull, and the writer must have been illiterate. There are so many grammatical errors, I don't even know where to start." He criticized, scrolling. "And it's absolutely unrealistic. What next, we marry and have children? And just so you know, I don't think about you like that." England scoffed.

"Uh, you might want to keep going," America mused, trying not to start chuckling.

Suspicious, England returned his eyes to the page. Fictional England's hands were.. pawing at America's clothing?.. Apparently, they were laying on the meeting table, with story England saying something about repaying his hero. England's eyes grew as wide as saucers. He skimmed now, cautious of what was about to happen.

The story told of clothes being removed, and then.. Oh. Oh, god. England felt a little sick, actually. "Jesus fucking Christ.." he uttered, expression turning to one of disgust. "People don't seriously think we'd do that, do they?.." He squeaked, scrolling quickly past the detailed smut.

"You'd be surprised, actually," America laughed, patting England on the back. "Really, really surprised."

"I think I'm going to have nightmares," England muttered, shoving the laptop back to the American.

"You've at least thought of getting with me once, though, haven't you?" America joked, winking and elbowing the Briton.

"Ugh, no way," he grunted, shuddering at the thought.

"You love me deep down though, don't you? These writers can see right through you." He teased, closing his laptop and standing up.

England crinkled his nose in distaste. "Well, I don't hate you. But you're still an annoying twat, and these 'writers' are dead wrong."

"He doesn't hate me, it's a miracle," America laughed quietly, smiling as he went off to put away his computer, and then put on some water for coffee.

"Also, is that _really_ all I came to this hotel for?.. Seriously, that was disgusting." England grunted, clearly annoyed that he'd been dragged out here just to look at something like that.

"Don't be so mean, old man," America pouted, turning in the hotel's kitchen and tilting his head to England. "USUK's my OTP." His puzzled expression clearly showed that England didn't understand quite what that meant.


End file.
